


Heat Seeker

by hellkitty



Category: Transformers, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Dubious Morality, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-11
Updated: 2010-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-24 05:35:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellkitty/pseuds/hellkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It occurred to me that I've never transferred some of my older stuff over here.  This is one of the first kink meme fills I wrote (and de-anoned).  Basically, if it made me giggle, blush or say OH GOD NO THAT IS SO WRONG...in it went. Not sure how well it's aged, but I do remember how fun it was to write. #nostalgia</p>
<p>Kink meme request was for a Decepticon prisoner in heat freaking out a guard.  </p>
<p>And I apologize if you can't look at flat-head screwdrivers the same way after this. :P</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Begins

It was bad enough, Skywarp thought, being prisoner of the disgusting Autobots. Worse to be stuck in this ridiculous prison, not only without the dignity as he, a Seeker and a high level captive, deserved, but completely without privacy. But WORST absolutely, was the realization that he was going into heat. In prison, surrounded by Autobots. And no privacy.  
  
At first, he thought he masked it pretty well. No one expected a prisoner to be happy. Especially not a Decepticon prisoner. And his decacycle long captivity, without seeing so much as a flash of sky, was bound to irritate a flyer. He probably could have gotten away with it indefinitely, if…if his arms were longer.  
  
*****  
Skywarp crouched in the darkest corner of his little cell. His lust was becoming unendurable even to him. His spike was half extended almost all the time. And his valve…. It didn’t bear thinking about. He was trying to scrape dried and half-gummed lubricant off his spike without driving himself crazy with arousal. And failing miserably. His harsh scrapes with the edges of his fingers became softer strokes and even softer caresses, as his mind drifted over to what should be going on right now, were he not consigned to this Autobot sinkhole of a prison.  
  
Right now…right now, he daydreamed, it would be his turn to be in the middle. Let’s see…. Thundercracker would be behind him, kissing his audio pickup, his spike thrusting in and out of Skywarp’s valve slowly. Right. He’d be leaning back against Thundercracker. On top of him, riding his own spike, would be Starscream, leaning back, just a littlle, letting Thundercracker’s thrusts set the rhythm. Oh he could almost feel it: his spike pushing into Starscream’s valve, his lubricant running down his spike and onto Thundercracker’s own glossy-wet spike, someone’s hands skittering across his sensitive wings. Primus, he could almost hear the soft grunts Thundercracker would be making in his audio, rising in tempo with each thrust as he got closer and closer to his own overload. And then…and then Starscream would lean forward, his hips still rising and falling to Thundercracker’s rhythm, and kiss him, his mouth hot on Skywarp’s…and then their combined attention would push Skywarp over into overload and he’d spasm against Thundercracker’s chest, and Thundercracker would lean over his shoulder and kiss Starscream as Skywarp cried out in overload and….  
  
No. That noise was here. And himself. Skywarp bit down upon that cry as his hands gave one final jerk at his spike, transfluid spurting silvery white against the wall in front of him. He stared at the wall, horrified. This is what the Autobots had driven him to. Primus. He watched it slowly start to drip down the blank grey surface of the wall. Worse than the mortification, though, was the burning awareness that it had done nothing—NOTHING—to alleviate his desire. In fact, his valve now outright ACHED.  
  
And…his hands were still sticky with lubricant.  
  
Skywarp cast a quick look over his shoulder. Still no one. The one benefit of the plain tungsten alloy bars the marked the front of his cell was that he could hear anyone coming. He unscrewed his valve cover, with another furtive glance. Still no one. Slowly, almost fearfully, he brushed his slick fingers across the edges of the valve.  
  
He shivered. The fantasy of Thundercracker’s spike in him still lingered on the edges of his awareness. Thundercracker’s spike, slick with lubricant, sliding in and out of Skywarp’s valve…. His fingers pushed further in, feeling the roller grips of his valve tighten around his fingers, pulling at them, trying to pull them further in. Ohhhhhhhhhh. He lay back on the floor. He rocked his hand against his pelvic frame, pushing two of his fingers in and out of his valve, fingers of his other hand slowly ringing the valve’s rim. His hips curved up gently, trying to push his fingers further up into his valve. He moaned softly, pushing faster and faster with his fingers, thrusting into his valve. He closed his eyes, summoning up the image of his Trinemates again. Starscream this time, his spike pushing gently into Skywarp’s valve, his eyes staring adoringly into his Trinemate’s.  
  
He felt an overload skitter at the edge of his grasp. No matter how hard or how fast he thrust his fingers into his valve, he couldn’t…get…off. He couldn’t. His fingers couldn’t reach the end of his valve, where the most sensitive sensor node was. Oh if he could just hit it…ONCE. His whole body shuddered in frustration. He groaned with frustration. His spike had re-extended itself, stabbing the air, more lubricant trickling down its sides.  
  
Maybe he could get off this way. His other hand seized his spike, jerking it hard, to the same rhythm that he thrust his fingers into his valve. Buttery warm shivers ran through his body, and….another jerking spasm, shooting transfluid against another patch of the wall as he cried out again, closing his eyes. But his valve was still trembling. Oh Primus he needed it that way. Jerking his spike wasn’t going to be enough. He needed a spike. Or anything. Just anything longer than his fingers.  
  
“What the---“ He heard a voice above his head. His eyes snapped open and he saw, upside down because of his position, the feet and then the body of one of his Autobot guards. He saw the guard take in his position, the silvery spatters on the wall, and Skywarp’s hands, one still gripping his spike, the other rammed in his valve.  
  
Skywarp snarled. “What are you looking at, Autobot?”  
  
“I—I’m not sure. What am I looking at?” Prowl. He placed the name. The uptight one. Great.  
  
“You are invading my privacy.”  
  
“You don’t have any privacy here.”  
  
“I am well aware of that,” he snapped. “That’s why I’m forced to do this.” He held up his spike-hand, coated with transfluid and lubricant, and held it up to the Autobot, who looked almost disturbed. Yet Prowl couldn’t take his eyes away. The Autobot’s disgust irritated Skywarp. Who was he that he thought he could look down on Skywarp. Like he never masturbated.  
  
“Oh, does that bother you?” Skywarp revolved, turning to expose his valve to Prowl. “Pretty sure you have one of these yourself. Ever use it?” Prowl looked white, but he shifted his stare from Skywarp’s slick fingers to the Seeker’s valve, shiny with lubricant. “Even know how to?”  
  
“What’s gotten into you?”  
  
What’s gotten into me? It’s what HASN’T gotten into me that’s driving me crazy, Skywarp thought. “I,” he growled, “Want to fuck.” Prowl backed off a step. Skywarp stood up, lubricant leaking down his thighs—Prowl’s eyes followed the track of that, and one long slow droplet of transfluid falling from his spike. “Come on, Autobot, fuck me.” He leaned against the bars. “I want you, I know you’re turned on. Let’s see your spike.” He licked his lips lasciviously, running his fingers over his valve again. “I bet you’ve never had a Seeker valve on you.”  
  
Prowl’s eyes flickered back to the silvery streaks of fluid on the wall, back to Skywarp. He shook his head, and dashed off, hands clutching his processor. Skywarp growled in frustration. Freaking out the Autobot was fun, but part of him certainly wouldn’t have minded even taking the Autobot’s spike. Anything. Anything to get his valve off.  
  
*****  
Two daycycles later, Skywarp still had no relief. More spatters of silver now marked the wall. He’d been trying desperately to siphon his desire through his spike, hoping it would relieve some of the pressure of his lust from his valve’s incessant need. He’d also scoured his cell for anything, ANYTHING to shove in his valve that might hit the sensitive node. His Autobot captors had been thorough—not even a sliver of metal.  
  
“Come here,” he whispered, to the guard. His spike was getting exhausted, the lubricant drying up. He could barely get enough from it to coat his fingers to try, fruitlessly, again, to fuck his own valve into release. He was getting desperate.  
  
“What?” The guard crossed over.  
  
“Closer,” he said, dropping his voice. The guard stepped within reach. Skywarp’s hands snatched out, grabbing the Autobot by the codpiece. “Got a deal for you, guard.”  
  
The guard twitched, but Skywarp’s fingers were hard against some pretty sensitive wiring. “What’s the deal? I ain’t lettin’ you out of here.”  
  
“Not even on my mind right now,” Skywarp admitted. “Fuck me.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Was he stupid? “You, spike, my valve. Primus I need it. You have no idea how bad I need it.”  
  
“What’s in it for me?”  
  
“Uhhhh, getting off by a Seeker?” Had they heard of Seeker valves here?  
  
“Not good enough. You’ll enjoy it too much.”  
  
“So you’re saying no?”  
  
“M saying one fuck isn’t good enough.”  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
The guard stepped back, grinning. “Want you to suck it, first. Wanna watch you suck my spike. You do that, and I’ll ram my spike so hard in your valve you’ll feel it in your cockpit.”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
The guard looked a little surprised the Skywarp had given in so easily. As if he should have held out for more. Skywarp dropped to his knees, reaching for the spike’s cover. The guard revealed his spike, which sprang upright, almost in the Seeker’s face. Skywarp fastened his mouth over the spike, working his glossa over it eagerly. Imagining it wasn’t some filthy Autobot spike but Thundercracker’s, that Thundercracker’s hands were cupping his audio, Thundercracker’s lubricant coating his mouth. He moaned. The Autobot began thrusting into Skywarp’s mouth, the vibration from Skywarp’s voice pushing him to greater urgency.  
  
The guard, for his part, was in ecstasy more than physical. Oh the ‘con knew what he was doing, his tongue skipping over the sensitive nodes, changing the pressure suction in his mouth, lips forming a firm seal. He suspected the ‘cons, all of them, sucked a lot of spike, And these Seekers—so high and mighty, huh? Not any more. The Seeker’s eyes were closed, his proud face shaped around the spike he was taking, that Ironhide was thrusting into him. On his knees, sucking at Ironhide’s spike as if his life depended on it. Huh, maybe it did. Primus but it felt so good, and so wrong to be sucked by a damn ‘con. “Gonna swallow,” he hissed at the con. “Swallow or the deal’s off.” Skywarp made some sound in his throat of assent, and the vibration from that set Ironhide over the edge—he felt his transfluid gush from his spike in a series of spasms, shooting hard into the back of the Seeker’s throat. He made a groan as the Seeker’s swallowing rubbed against his nodes again, the Seeker’s cool mouth swallowing his hot overload.  
  
The Seeker wasn’t ready to quit—he continued to tease the spike, preventing it from retracting. Damn, thought Ironhide, he WANTED this fuck. He was certainly working to earn it. Ironhide pushed the ‘con’s face away. “Ready?”  
  
The con pushed himself to his feet, bending over. Ironhide looked at the valve—looked small. Still, a deal was a deal, and the Seeker had certainly just had a chance to evaluate what he was getting. He pushed his spike into the valve. Skywarp cried out in pleasure; Ironhide shuddered as he felt the valve clamp against his spike. Primus, what was it with these Seekers? “Gonna take me a while, ‘cause I just came,” he muttered,  
  
“Fine with me,” Skywarp said, wrapping his hands around the bars to brace his hips against the front of the cell.  
  
Ironhide was about to begin thrusting when a loud voice caused him to jump. “Soldier!” Ironhide jerked away, yanking his spike rudely out of Skywarp’s valve. Skywarp howled in protest, turning to see Prowl at the end of the corridor, face enraged. “Stop abusing the prisoner.”  
  
Abusing the prisoner? “I need it!” Skywarp yelled. “Dammit. Just let him fuck me!” Just five kliks later, couldn’t he have? Just five kliks? He’d’ve gotten his valve off at least once. Right now, the few pokes his node had gotten from Ironhide’s spike had set him on fire. He was almost insane with need. He lunged at Ironhide again, who jumped back, his spike already retracted. Skywarp slumped against the floor, cursing.  
  
*****  
Finally, when they caught him breaking apart his berth to try to find something he could jam in his valve, they brought him to a medic, his hands immobilized behind him. By this time, it hurt to walk. He didn’t think his spike would yield a drop of lubricant, even if he could touch it.  
  
“Lay back,” the medic said, directing his two guards to rechain his arms to the sides of the examination berth. Skywarp didn’t have a choice and didn’t really care at this point. He was fairly sure he was insane by this point, fantasizing wistfully about his trine. Hell, he’d even been having lust filled thoughts about Ravage. He bet the cassetticon’s glossa could get where he needed it.  
  
“What’s the problem?”  
  
“There’s no problem. I just need someone TO FUCK ME!” he yelled. Primus these Autobots were stupid.  
  
First Aid looked a little alarmed, but recovered his composure. “I’ll just check down there, okay?”  
  
He snapped open Skywarp’s hatch. The spike was half-extended. “Everything functional?”  
  
“Define functional. I’m out of lubricant.”  
  
That got a look of surprise. “OUT…of lubricant?” First Aid opened the reservoir. Empty The ‘con was telling the truth. “How’d you use that much?”  
  
“Yankin’ spike,” said one of the guards. “Should see his cell. Just about fraggin’ repainted it with transfluid.”  
  
Skywarp glared at the guard, but his gaze frankly dared the medic to say something.  
  
“He’s in heat.” Skywarp’s shoulders relaxed. Finally. Someone got it.  
  
“They run a really high sex drive, this sort. That’s why they come in multiples.”  
  
“Oooh,” said the other guard, “That’s a pervy idea.”  
  
It was still, to Skywarp, an arousing idea. His valve ached again. “Look,” he said to the medic, who seemed moderately reasonable, “I need to get off. From the valve. I need it. It’s been driving me fucking crazy. I’ve tried…everything.”  
  
The medic grunted, and turned to his tools. He squirted lubricant on one hand and, keeping his eyes carefully on Skywarp’s face, as if he were afraid it would embarrass Skywarp to have him looking at his valve, slipped two fingers into the Seeker. Skywarp hissed at the cold lubricant, squirming as the medic worked his fingers further up into the valve. “Farther,” Skywarp gasped. First Aid worked his fingers to the end of the valve gently. “No,” Skywarp growled impatiently, “Harder. Primus please, do it!” The medic frowned, but began thrusting his fingers in and out of the valve.  
  
“YES!” Skywarp yelled. “That! FINALLY!” His spike rose gamely. Skywarp didn’t even have the energy to even think of a fantasy. Just lying here, the medic’s dispassionate fingers driving in and out of his valve, under the harsh light and the bemused eyes of the guards—he didn’t fucking care any more. Something…was…finally…fucking his valve.  
  
He shrieked into overload, his body rising off the berth with force enough to dent it when he fell back down, the medic’s hand rising and falling carefully, as if afraid of hurting him. Frag it: if Skywarp could ignore all of this, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t even notice anything like pain. The overload shot through him like a river of fire. He felt his valve squeeze down on the medic’s fingers with force enough to crack a joint, as his own fluid gushed from his valve and onto the berth. He lay gasping, his entire body focused on his overload, for minutes.  
  
“Again,” he croaked. “Primus I need it again.” First Aid withdrew his hand, shaking his head, holding up his injured hand. “Little dangerous, ‘con.”  
  
“I didn’t do it on purpose. Please! I need it. Again!” He struggled to sit up, snatching a tool from the medic’s tray. He turned it handle first and thrust it in his valve, shoving it up to the end. Primus if only he’d had one of these…flat head screwdrivers…in his cell, he’d have been saved a lot of embarrassment. He thrust the screwdriver’s handle in again and again until a guard seized his arm and pinned him back to the berth. He roared in frustration.  
  
The other guard looked over at the medic. “We can do it with that, right?”  
  
“I can do it myself!”  
  
“Not giving you a weapon, ‘con.”  
  
“It’s not a weapon. Primus I just want… nnnngggaaah!” One of the guards began moving the screwdriver in his valve. “Yeeeesssss,” he moaned, writhing on the berth. The guard seemed intrigued, shoving the screwdriver in again and again and again, bringing Skywarp to another overload, another rush of fluid.  
  
His whole body was trembling, but…his valve needed another.  
  
“How does this work, anyway, Seeker,” First Aid said, bandaging his finger. “How long does this heat thing last for you?”  
  
“It doesn’t go by time. Goes by overloads,” he gasped. He whined as the guard withdrew the screwdriver from his valve. He raised his hips off the berth, as if he could snatch the screwdriver back into his greedy valve.  
  
“How many?”  
  
“Just about done with the spike,” he said. “Kind of lost count.”  
  
“And there’s a separate number for the valve?”  
  
“Ninety eight to go.”  
  
The guard snapped open his hatch—watching all of this had given him a raging spike---even as he unveiled it, lubricant dripped off the codpiece cover. He jerked Skywarp’s hips to the edge of the berth, thrusting his spike hard into the valve. “Ninety-seven,” he said, gruffly.  



	2. When Twins Attack

Skywarp had taken the two guards, three medics and an ambulatory patient before Prowl arrived, and with his usual prudish horror, Skywarp thought, shut the whole thing down. Citing, in his uptight way, the growing pool of fluids on the floor as a safety hazard.  
  
Safety hazard! Skywarp didn’t care if all the Autobots on the base slipped in his fluids and broke their necks, as long as they did it after he’d had them.  
  
But he was the prisoner so…he didn’t have any say. Instead, he’d been bundled off to a slightly more private cell—no windows, one solid door—and with two guards who were supposed to—supposed to—help him with what First Aid had primly called his ‘condition.’ It’s not a condition. It’s horniness. Horniness so dire he’d even fuck an Autobot.  
  
Horniness so dire he no longer even felt the humiliation of having his codpiece plating stripped off. The medic had cited his recent activity as possibly corrosive to the armor’s inside plating. And truth was, that dried on transfluid and lubricant was making it damned uncomfortable. That and the fact that his spike was still half extended, at least, at all times. Still, without it, he had not even a scrap of a hope of hiding his state.  
  
Which was…aroused.  
  
“I think he’s happy to see us,” one of his putative helpers murmured to his twin.  
  
“I think he’s happy to see anyone, Sideswipe. Have you seen his old cell? If he got any friendlier with his own spike his hand would be welded to it.”  
  
“Well, I can see why. It is a nice looking spike, don’t you think?”  
  
Despite himself, Skywarp felt his spike release more lubricant. He hunched over, hoping they’d get to business—what he really needed—or go the hell away. He didn’t need their snark.  
  
His cockpit bumped against his extended spike, causing him to bite back a moan. He heard the two guards laugh, and then a soft schussing sound of metal on metal. He looked up to see them engaged in a deep, fierce kiss, their hands clawing each other desperately.  
  
THAT, he decided, was not helping. His valve twinged, especially as one of them reached between his twin’s legs and fondled the valve cover. Definitely not helping. He growled.  
  
“Oh look, Sunstreaker, I think our friend is jealous.”  
  
“Well, we are here to help him.” Sunstreaker approached where Skywarp sat on the berth. “Hear you need some spike, Decepticon.”  
  
“Just get to it already?” Skywarp lay back, reaching for the Autobot’s pelvic armor.  
  
“Oh no, ‘con. If you weren’t here, I’d be taking my friend over there. You owe me. A spike. And that spike looks ready for the job.”  
  
Skywarp snarled as Sunstreaker straddled his hips, lowering himself on to the Seeker’s extended spike, squirming against the lubricant. “Ohhhhhhh,” Sunstreaker murmured. “Almost as good as you, Sides.”  
  
“Almost being the operative word, Suns,” Sideswipe said from the doorway.  
  
Sunstreaker leaned over Skywarp. “See, one of us has to guard you, in case you get any…ideas. So you have to keep us both happy.”  
  
“Getting to spike a Seeker ought to keep you happy enough.”  
  
“Ought to, but it doesn’t,” Sunstreaker said, beginning to move up and down on Skywarp’s spike. His ventilation came in faster cycles, his engine starting to rev. Skywarp’s lust filled him. He was a lousy Autobot, but it did, he hated to admit, feel good to have something other than his hand over his spike. He moaned, starting to jerk his hips upward into the descending Autobot. “Mmmmmmmm,” Sunstreaker said. “Now you’re getting the spirit.” He continued to ride the ‘con’s spike, Skywarp pushing off his heels to thrust his hips higher into the Autobot. He was trembling on the edge of overload when the Autobot pushed up, almost entirely dislodging his spike.  
  
Skywarp snarled. “Spike tease.”  
  
“Problem, ‘con. I’m so horny right now if I take your valve I won’t last long enough to get you off.”  
  
“Sounds like your problem.”  
  
Sunstreaker laughed. “Your problem if you want to overload.”  
  
Skywarp sighed. “What do you want?”  
  
The Autobot leaned over, his breath tickling Skywarp’s audio. “Seems to me you’re pretty good yanking a spike. Come on. Get me off once. I’ll last longer.”  
  
Skywarp was half mad with desire. If the Autobot had mentioned this at the start, he’d’ve had the will to resist, but this close to a spike overload he’d do anything. His hand closed around Sunstreaker’s spike as soon as the Autobot revealed it, guiding the lubricant up and down it. Sunstreaker continued his up and down ride over Skywarp’s spike, his eyes closed, moaning, leaning back against Skywarp’s raised knee.  
  
Skywarp tried to push himself higher into the Autobot, who was holding his valve just too high for Skywarp to sink his spike in fully. The Autobot overloaded, hard, around him, the valve squeezing his spike. He tried to thrust further in, hoping the spasming valve would take him over. He continued yanking the spike, knowing it would keep the Autobot from enjoying the fadeout from his overload. You want to spike overload. You’ll do it.  
  
The Autobot’s head rolled forward, his eyes taking in the Seeker’s fingers, slick with lubricant, squeezing and sliding on his spike. He fell forward into an overload, his transfluid shooting all over the Seeker’s prone form. Skywarp groaned. “Come on. You didn’t let me finish.”  
  
“Why should I? Point was to get me off, ‘con. You only need it in the valve. That’s what orders say.”  
  
“NO! No! Please. Primus just let me finish. Just a klik! Or,” he dropped his hand from the Autobot’s spike to his own.  
  
“Nope.” Sunstreaker yanked his hand off his spike. “Think you’ve done that too much. Time for your valve.”  
  
Skywarp rolled his hips in frustration. He couldn’t believe this. He’d gotten the damn Autobot off—two ways!—and his spike was vibrating close to overload and…he couldn’t touch it?  
  
“Now,” Skywarp said, trying to sound commanding. It sounded like a beg. All of this…was driving his own valve crazy. The whole time he’d been thinking about his valve against the Autobot’s spike, as he felt his own spike in the Autobot…that spike he wanted hard and slick in his hand. “Now,” he said, more insistently.  
  
“Such a good look for you,” Sunstreaker said as he shifted his position to between the larger Seeker’s legs. His spike was still extended, and lubricant mixed with transfluid ran down its underside. That’s the last Skywarp saw of it as he buried it in the Seeker’s waiting valve. “Like you like this, ‘con. Flat on your back and covered in my fluid.” He began thrusting into the Seeker’s valve. “Is it wrong I like watching you like this? Your spike hurt you, does it? You want to come, don’t you?” he stopped, jerking himself out of the valve suddenly. “Don’t you?”  
  
Skywarp thrashed. “Primus, don’t stop. I need it.”  
  
“Say you want me to fuck you.”  
  
“Should be obvious.”  
  
“Say it.”  
  
“Primus, fine! I want you to fuck me. Now. Hard. In the valve.” He squirmed. “I’ll do…anything. Just…get me off first.”  
  
Sunstreaker smiled. “That’s more like it.” He looked over his shoulder at his twin. “Don’t you think?”  
  
“I like the sound of that,” Sideswipe said from the doorway.  
  
“Yeah, well here’s what I like the sound of,” Sunstreaker said, pushing wetly into the Seeker’s valve with force enough to push a moan from the Seeker’s throat. For a long moment that was the only sound the three of them made in the room: the wet slide of spike against valve, and Skywarp’s half-aware moans. Sunstreaker had to pause once to slap Skywarp’s hand off his spike, determined not to let the Decepticon get himself off that way. He had to admit, even more than he’d said, that he loved the Seeker sprawled below him, his desire almost on the point of excruciating. Punishing him and pleasuring him both at once.  
  
The Seeker overloaded with a screech and a thrust of his hips that nearly dropped Sunstreaker on the floor. If the ‘con’s valve didn’t have such a strong grip on his spike, he definitely would have fallen. DAMN. He felt, sooner than he’d wanted, his own overload ripped out of him by the Seeker’s spasming valve.  
  
Sunstreaker felt his head jerked back, and his brother’s mouth hot on his. Oh they were supposed to split, so that one could guard the prisoner while the other took care of him, but…some things were just too hot. And the ‘con didn’t exactly look in the position mastermind an escape right now. His whole body quivered in overload. Sideswipe reached over, still locked mouth-to-mouth with his brother, smearing some of Sunstreaker’s transfluid from where it had splattered across the Seeker’s wings. He moaned into his brother’s throat. “You marked him,” he murmured, unfastening his own codpiece. “I want to mark him too.”  
  
“Don’t you dare,” the Seeker snarled. He’d been obedient enough through the first Autobot’s sarcasm. He drew the line.  
  
“Don’t think you’re going to stop me,” Sideswipe said, wrapping his hand around his own spike and his other around Skywarp’s still erect one. “Come on, then,” he said, giving a rotating stroke, “Stop me.”  
  
Skywarp groaned, his fists hitting the sides of the berth. He felt a surge through his spike. Oh this damn Autobot better not be teasing. Not this time. So wrapped in the feeling of the Autobot’s hand on his spike, teasing it, coaxing it into releasing more lubricant, he didn’t feel Sunstreaker move until the Autobot’s face shadowed his. He pulled the Autobot into a kiss, driving his glossa into the other’s mouth. Sunstreaker’s mouth moved on his glossa as though it were another spike. Skywarp moaned into his mouth as his twin worked his spike into a quivering frenzy.  
  
He overloaded with a cry muffled by Sunstreaker’s mouth, feeling the hot spatter of his own transfluid on his pelvic armor, his lower wings, and then the wider reach of the Autobot’s own overload, on his wings, his turbines, his cockpit, his cheek. Sunstreaker pulled his mouth away. A droplet of his twin’s transfluid shimmered on his cheek, and he wiped it off with a finger, pushing the finger into Skywarp’s mouth. Skywarp licked it obediently, half-lost in the throes of his own overload.  
  
“I like him,” Sideswipe said. “I think we should keep him.”  
  
Skywarp muttered, “If I didn’t need your damn spike right now.” He tried to push back, but the twins held him down.  
  
“Okay, maybe you don’t need us,” Sunstreaker snickered. He produced a screwdriver from his storage. “Heard you had some fun with this earlier.” The screwdriver landed on Skywarp’s turbine.  
  
“You have got to be kidding me.” Skywarp threw it away with disdain. “That’s what you’re here for.”  
  
“How many more you got to go? You keeping count?”  
  
Skywarp sighed. “Seventy-eight.”  
  
Sunstreaker grinned, “Fewer than I thought.”  
  
“While your idiot Prowl was making arrangements, the one guard, Bluestreak, was ready for another round.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“He brought friends.” That had been good. None of this toying with him. Just one of them, then another, thrusting him into bliss. Even one who had pulled him on top. His valve ached at the memory, ready again.  
  
Sideswipe whistled from where he bent to retrieve the screwdriver. “Surely you won’t say no to a brief reunion with another old lover,” he said, placing the tool, handle outward, in the Seeker’s grasp. “And you did say earlier you’d do anything.”  
  
“Anything,” Sunstreaker echoed.  
  
“NOT while you are watching.” Desire was building up, like a hot pressure, in his valve again. He’d need it again, soon. In his Trine they’d have simple have spent daycycles in a perpetual overload. Without having to beg for it.  
  
“Didn’t seem to matter in repair bay.”  
  
Wasn’t going to have much choice, was he. “Come on,” Sunstreaker added, guiding his hand to the valve. “Want to watch you overload without being distracted.” Skywarp growled, but his valve needed it again and neither of his ‘helpers’ looked ready to help—or willing.  
  
“Go fuck yourself,” he snapped.  
  
“No,” Sunstreaker grinned, wickedly, thrusting the tool’s handle into Skywarp’s valve, “You fuck YOURself.” For good measure, he shoved it hard against the valve’s end. Skywarp’s entire body jumped as the handle hit the deeply-recessed node. If he’d thought he had any choice at all, his valve just cancelled his vote. Almost unconsciously, he began working the screwdriver in his valve, trying to close his eyes against the two smirking Autobots. Ohhhh it did feel good to do it himself, he thought. The tempo his valve wanted, not even a shred of a tease, all business. Pleasurable business. Waves of desire rolled through him originating, it seemed, at the valve. He reached for a memory and got…Starscream. Him straddling Starscream’s kneeling legs, their wings tangled together, his Trinemate’s face nuzzling his throat. His other hand came up to rub his throat cabling, flirting with the edges of the armor plating. Starscream’s spike in his valve, Starscream’s hands over his wings, Starscream’s glossa hot and hard on his throat.  
  
His entire body clenched in overload, his wingflaps fluttering. He swallowed a groan, and risked opening his eyes, awareness growing that he was not with Starscream, but still in prison, still being looked at by two idiot Autobots. Still with his valve in heat. And still with a screwdriver.  
  
The two mechs’ eyes were glazed over with lust. He must have put on a pretty decent showing for them. “Want,” Sideswipe said, weakly. He reached forward and touched the Seeker’s wings. Skywarp flinched but the Autobot continued, his fingers tracing circles in the spatters of transfluid on his wings. “I want to do that to you,” Sideswipe said, his voice losing its teasing tone. “I want to make you come like that.” Skywarp half-sat up, pulling the screwdriver out of his valve in another gush of fluid. The fluid transfixed the Autobot. Skywarp lay back.  
  
Sideswipe pushed between his legs, his spike prodding gently at the mouth of the valve. “You ready? Don’t want this to hurt.”  
  
Skywarp bit down a nasty comment. Made him fuck himself with a screwdriver and now he worries about Skywarp’s comfort? “Yeah,” he said, shortly, closing his eyes as the twin entered him for the first time. Sideswipe moved slowly, trying to mimic the rhythm he’d seen Skywarp use.  
  
Skywarp moaned, thrashing his head from side to side. His hands clutched empty air—not willing to grab for the Autobot, but wanting to grab onto something. Sideswipe did…something as he moved, changing his angle from in thrust to out, that sent the Seeker’s turbines into auto-fire. He tried to say something, but all that came out was a surprised sounding “Oh1” then another “oh!” and then another, louder. Then another.  
  
The Autobot threw his head back as his hips pushed one final thrust into Skywarp, his overload transfluid hitting dead on that recessed node. Skywarp screamed, his entire body thrashing on the berth, his hips jerking against the Autobot’s.  
  
Sideswipe leaned over him, resting stiff armed over him, palms flat against the berth. His ventilation was rough. “You ARE good, Seeker,” he admitted. “And you are fucking HOT when you overload.”  
  
“Yeah?” Skywarp asked, his eyes glinting. “You want good? Stay there.” He curled his leg around the ‘bot’s hip, preventing him from withdrawing. These two owed him some valve overloads, and he was going to get as many as he could. He figured he’d probably wear them out. Maybe Bluestreak would come back, though. Second time around he’d ridden Skywarp through two overloads. Skywarp was up to see if they could make it three.  
  
At the thought, his valve tightened around Sideswipe’s only-half-extended spike. Skywarp activated the roller grips on voluntary control, working them up and down the length of the spike’s shaft. Sideswipe’s optics rolled back in his head as he felt his spike extend again in the Seeker’s valve. “Ohhhhhh,” Sideswipe murmured, shivering. “Oh damn that’s good.”  
  
“What’s he doing? I can’t see!” Sunstreaker pushed in, looking.  
  
“He’s working me with his valve,” Sideswipe said, weakly, bracing himself against the Seeker’s hips, barely able to stand. Skywarp set a complicated pattern to the rollers, pulling and kneading and spiralling against the Autobot’s spike.  
  
“This is how we do it when we are too tired to move,” Skywarp said, triumphantly.  
  
“Primus, Suns, you gotta feel this.” But Sideswipe didn’t seem in any hurry to let his twin try. Sunstreaker was getting antsy, his twin immobile, his entire concentration in his spike, pinned in the Seeker’s valve. Sunstreaker tried kissing him, but Sideswipe was too engrossed, his entire body shuddering in time to the Seeker’s valve pulses.  
  
Skywarp toyed with the idea of stopping, letting the damn Autobot see what it was like to be teased to the point of madness. Yes, he deserved that. Skywarp froze. For a long moment the Autobot hung there, confused.  
  
“Come on!” Sideswipe moaned. “Ya gotta finish me. Primus I can’t TAKE it!” He began thrusting, hard, into the valve, hefting up the Seeker’s hips to drive his spike hard against the node. Skywarp shuddered into another overload along with the Autobot.  
  
“You are so fucking HOT,” Sideswipe repeated, his fingers drifting to his own valve, licking his way down the Seeker’s large frame, to his valve, his glossa swirling in the fluids there—his own, his twins, the jet’s. Skywarp moaned.  
  
“Not what I need,” he hissed.  
  
“One of us will,” Sideswipe muttered into his valve, “Promise. I just…” He saw the Autobot’s eyes close as Sideswipe dipped his glossa into the valve. Skywarp shuddered.  
  
His eyes flashed open at wet heat on his spike—Sunstreaker’s mouth this time. Ohhhhhhh. This didn’t even need a fantasy. This was good all by itself—two eager mouths working at him, one on his spike, one on his valve. His fingers stirred the transfluid they had shot on him earlier, lightening his wings silvery pale. He hissed with pleasure as Sideswipe worked a finger into his valve. Each twin worked at the same rhythm. It was like getting pulled by two separate ropes—his awareness didn’t know whether to stay with his spike or his valve. Eventually it just floated between them in the rage of sensation, the sight of the two pairs of blue eyes eagerly watching his reaction, almost identical hands reaching over to stroke his thighs, his wings, each other, save the one hand working into his valve. It was a rising flood of pleasure and just the sheer perversity—two Autobots, two of the enemy, working so hard to get him off—his body tensed, quivered and then jounced so hard that the berth tipped, knocking them all onto the floor in a tangle of limbs. His own transfluid sprayed its silvery stream across the three of them.  
  
Sideswipe smirked, rubbing the fluid into the jet’s cockpit. “You really oughta consider this a new paintjob. As our sex toy.”  
  
“For him, maybe,” Sunstreaker said. “For me, no.” He grabbed the Seeker roughly by the back of the helm. “Lick it off, Seeker.”  
  
“Now, now,” Sideswipe soothed. He licked the fluid off his own arm with a contented purr.  
  
Sunstreaker found the edge of the screwdriver in his throat, his head tilted at an uncomfortable angle. He suddenly remembered the Seeker’s greater size and strength. Remembered and regretted a little. “Doctor’s orders,” Skywarp hissed, sliding his legs over the smaller mech’s lap, settling himself on Sunstreaker’s spike. “You take me til you can’t any more. NO more games, no more playing around. I want you till you can’t even get your spike up.”  
  
“I thought as much!” A new voice boomed in the doorway. The three froze and turned as one to look. Ironhide, one of the other guards. “Prowl sent me to check to make sure you still stuck on task, you two.”  
  
“We ARE on task,” Sunstreaker said, pulling away from Skywarp and the screwdriver at his throat. “Spiking the Seeker.”  
  
Ironhide reached over and snatched the tool from Skywarp’s hands. He took in the splatters of transfluid all over the Decepticon’s frame, the bluish puddle between his thighs, the sudden look of shame and anger that flared in the red optics. “You two,” Ironhide snarled, “Do your damn job and guard the door. He and I have some unfinished business.”  
  
The two scrambled out of the way, slipping in the puddle of fluid, sheepish.  
  
“Remember me, ‘con?”  
  
“You DO owe me,” Skywarp said. “Good, Fuck me. Just do it hard and fast and as long as you can keep up.”  
  
“Ha. We do it my way, ‘con.” Ironhide flipped the jet over onto his belly in one smooth athletic move, and jerked the Seeker’s hips against his as he kneeled behind him. “You like it hard, so you won’t mind.” He rammed his spike into the Seeker’s valve, his hands hot and hard on the backspread of the other mech’s wings. Skywarp struggled up to his arms, only to have his head and shoulders pushed back down by the Autobot, with a fierce hand on the back of his helm, his hips and aft sticking up into the air, pounded by the Autobot. He felt Ironhide’s hand squeezing at his helm, his elbow banging against Skywarp’s back as he used the helm as one grip, a hip-strut as another, to jerk the Seeker’s frame back hard against his spike. Ironhide said nothing, just a sound between a grunt and a growl.  
  
Skywarp’s spine spasmed with an overload, but the Autobot kept thrusting through it, pushing him beyond that and halfway toward another one. He didn’t even have the energy to make noise—it was enough of an effort to remember to breathe as the Autobot continued his assault on the valve. With a weird growl, the Autobot overloaded inside him, sending Skywarp over again. The Autobot only paused for a moment, and then continued thrusting into the Seeker’s valve. His transfluid spilled out down the backs of Skywarp’s thighs in hot streaks. “Long as I can keep up, huh?” Ironhide said. “That what you said?”  
  
He lifted Skywarp’s head up with his hand, like he was palming a ball. “What you said, right?”  
  
“Yes! OH!” The arch in his spine sent him into another spasm as the Autobot drove into him.  
  
“You pull a weapon on my mechs again, ‘con, and you’ll have something in your valve all right. Called a pulse cannon. You hear me?” His voice was hard. He kept his same rhythm pounding into Skywarp. “Hear me?”  
  
“Yes! I won’t, Primus, just keep giving it to me!” He felt his elbow stabilizers start to give. The Autobot felt it too, and heaved Skywarp back against his kneeling thighs, the jet’s back against his chest, pounding upward now. Skywarp tilted his head skyward, crying out into another overload, feeling the fluids rush over Ironhide’s thighs. Still the Autobot didn’t stop. Primus this was what he needed. He’d do anything to keep this going. Anything.  
  
The Autobot’s grip shifted to the back of his neck, the other hand harsh on his wings. “Who’s in charge here?”  
  
Skywarp managed only a moan.  
  
“Who’s in charge here, ‘con?” He drove in harder, denting the back of Skywarp’s thigh armor.  
  
“You are!” Skywarp gasped. “You are! Just don’t stop! Please!”  
  
“Good to hear you say please, ‘con. Right answer. I’m in charge. Remember that.”  
  
“Yes!” Skywarp shuddered into an overload, his hands clawing behind him, desperate to touch the Autobot, pawing the air.  
  
“Mine,” Ironhide growled. “Don’t need to mark you, do I? You’re mine. You take my spike when I want you to. Not just now, not just doctor’s orders. Whenever I want.”  
  
“Yes! Whatever you want. Whenever you want!” His valve clutched into another overload. Ironhide rocked into it, pulling the Seeker on top of him, landing hard on his back as his own overload shot his transfluid into the Seeker.  
  
Skywarp was limp. So many overloads in such a short time, his valve was temporarily sated. His breath shivered out of his frame.  
  
“How many left?” the voice was gruff in his ear.  
  
“Seventy.”  
  
Ironhide shoved the Seeker off him. “Be back tomorrow.”


	3. Failed Seduction

Yup. Still sticky.

 

3.  
The next daycycle:  
He was told he’d have to face Prowl for pulling a weapon, but first, for some reason, they’d brought him to repair bay again. A different medic, Ratchet, this time, who hadn’t said a word as he examined Skywarp, somehow ignoring the raging spike, and cleaning the absolute mess from his valve and thighs, managing to ignore Skywarp’s wild cries. Just the walk over had gotten Skywarp worked up again; the air against his valve was enough to drive him crazy. But then the medic had pulled out a small nozzled high-pressure hose to clean his valve…and as far as Skywarp was concerned, torture commenced. He whined, writhing on the berth, trying to get the waterline at just the right angle…to…. The medic stopped, and wiped the area with a towel, sending Skywarp into an enraged frenzy.

The medic relented, lubing up his fingers. “This how you want it?”

Skywarp swallowed a nasty response. At least the medic was offering. “Yeah.” He felt his body arch into the medic’s fingers. Autobot medics must have special instruction on getting a mech off manually, which was a weird thing to think about, Skywarp decided, as his hips rose and fell in time to Ratchet’s thrusts. He gritted his dental plates, grunting and moaning, his spike releasing more lubricant that the medic casually wiped away with a cleaning towel, until he cried out in overload as the medic’s fingers wiggled against the recessed node.

“Enough?”

“Again.”

“Already?”

“Yes, frag it, already. Just do it!” He wriggled his hips around the medic’s hand. Ratchet obediently began thrusting again with his fingers.

“Must be hard to live with.”

“Only when I’m surrounded by stupid prudish Autobots,” he snarled, but closed his eyes as another wave of pleasure rose up from his valve. “You are good at this,” he croaked.

“Thank you,” Ratchet said, mildly. “Harder? Softer?”

“This is…this is ooooohhhhhh,” and the time for talking about it was over. Skywarp gave himself over to the rising crest of electric sensations, his body twisting sinuously on the berth. He overloaded again, moments later, with a sudden shudder.

“Normally this quick to get off?” The medic said it like it was a bad thing.

“Heat. You never really wind down completely.”

“Well, that’s all I can do for you: Manual says no more than two every cycle.”

If he’d read the other medic’s fraggin’ report, he’d know how wrong that was. Though maybe the other medic edited out his own participation. “Manual’s wrong! Come on.” Skywarp tilted his hips invitingly at the medic. “Do it so you can enjoy it, too.”

“Sorry. Manual says.” He wiped off his hand, coated in lubricant and Skywarp’s bluish fluid, with a definitive gesture. “That should help, though.”

It did help, a little. Not enough though. Still, he knew better than to argue. He levered himself off the table to where his guard—Ironhide—stood waiting. “Let’s go,” Ironhide said, gruffly.

Skywarp went with Ironhide, acutely aware that his bare spike and valve were exposed for all to see. Got more than a few curious looks from passing bots. Primus he wanted to take each one of them.

Ironhide took his arm and led him off the path back to his new cell into a small closet. Skywarp turned as he saw the blank wall, and Ironhide thrust him back against the wall with one hand, his other already opening the catches of his codpiece. When the bot thrust into him, Skywarp felt the mass of lubricant on Ironhide’s spike—of course. He’d been watching Ratchet get the Seeker off. Must have turned him on.

“Told you,” Ironhide growled in his ear, “Any time I want.” He started thrusting with that same hard rhythm as before.

“Yeah,” Skywarp managed spreading his thighs a little wider so that Ironhide’s thrusts could go deeper. He hated this Autobot, but at least he didn’t play around. And his spike rhythm was so good. Exactly what Skywarp needed. Ironhide braced him against the wall by two rough hands squeezing his sensitive wings to almost the point of pain, tilting the Seeker’s hips forward. Skywarp’s hands reached for him.

“Do NOT fraggin’ touch me,” Ironhide growled. “You don’t deserve to.” To punish him, one hand came down and gave a vicious tug at the Seeker’s erect spike. Skywarp squealed, his valve tightening in panic. Ironhide grunted at the tightness. “Like you like that. A little afraid.” His rhythm picked up a bit, sending Skywarp into another overload. The Autobot kept up his pounding. “Later, when you’re no longer under medic’s care, I’m gonna make you suck my spike again, Seeker. How you feel about that? You going to suck my spike? Like before?”

“I---oh! Ohhhh!” was all the Seeker could manage. Ironhide jerked himself back. Skywarp whined.

“Say it. Say it, Seeker. Say you’ll suck my spike. Tell me how bad you want to.”

Skywarp froze, but his valve was driving him crazy again. He squirmed against the Autobot. Ironhide began thrusting in, but in shallow tormenting strokes. “Yes. I’ll do it. I want to.” The strokes grew a bit deeper. “I want it. I want to suck your spike, oh Primus please just fuck me!”

“Oughta make you do it right now, only frraaaaag your valve feels so good on me. You know how good you feel, Seeker? You like that you’re getting an Autobot off?”

Skywarp had no idea what the right answer to that was, and his sensor net was spiralling him toward another overload, so he just moaned.

“You like that I hate your fraggin’ guts but I’m the only one who can give it the way you need?”

Skywarp cried out into another overload, his knee servos trembling.

Ironhide withdrew, pushing him to the floor and bending him over. “My way again, Seeker. My turn to get off.” He drove himself into the Seeker’s upraised hips, pinning Skywarp’s shoulders to the ground. “Mine,” he snarled. “My little fucking Seeker. Gonna suck me, you know you will. In front of as many witnesses as I can find. Think I can find anyone wanting to watch you swallow my spike?” Skywarp heard himself crying out in ecstasy as Ironhide overloaded into him. He hated this bot but his valve was just in a continual overload when Ironhide was in him.

A sudden wash of light. Skywarp blinked.

“Ironhide,” a cool voice said. “We will discuss this later.”

Ironhide yanked himself out of Skywarp with a jerk that was painful enough to make the Seeker gasp. “Just doing what his condition requires.”

“I do not think his condition requires verbal abuse, Ironhide.”

“I don’t hear him complaining,” Ironhide said, sourly, blading lubricant off his spike and flicking it off his fingers onto the Seeker before tucking his spike away.

“Later,” Prowl repeated, dismissing the Autobot with a gesture. He bent down by Skywarp, extending a hand. “Get up.”

Skywarp struggled to his feet, without taking Prowl’s offered hands. He hated this Autobot: hated how his prudishness just shot judgment all over him. The mess Ironhide had flicked off his spike lay globby on left wing. He tried to brush it off, his hands covered in the mess.

“Follow me,” Prowl said, walking carefully in front of Skywarp, shooting some glare that sent the eyes of passersby anywhere but on Skywarp, limping behind him. He directed Skywarp into an office and closed the door, reaching in a locker for some cleaning equipment which he tossed at the Decepticon. “Clean yourself up.” Skywarp muttered, but used the spray bottle and rags to clean his spike, his valve, his thighs, his wing. He looked up: Prowl was watching him with an unreadable expression.

“I regret that my soldiers have been abusing you.”

“They haven’t.”

“Skywarp,” Prowl frowned. He reached in a drawer and laid a screwdriver on the desk. “Want to tell me about this?”

“Apparently a weapon.”

“How’d you get it?”

A long moment. “Yeah, they gave it to me.”

“They: Sideswipe and Sunstreaker?” Skywarp nodded. “And why did they give it to you?”

Skywarp studied Prowl, trying to gauge if he was getting off on this. His composure was riling the Seeker’s notorious temper. “So they could watch me fuck myself with it,” he said, carefully enunciating each word.

Prowl frowned again. “I am sorry. I thought they could be trusted.” He sighed. “What are we going to do with you?” From any other bot it might have sounded friendly, teasing, indulgent. This just made him sound like a hassle.

“Look, I’m fraggin’ sorry that my fraggin’ libido is a bit much for you pathetic Autobots right now,” he snarled. “Don’t think it’s any fun for me to have to go through all of this, and have all your prudish judgment on it as well like it’s a shameful thing. Just let me go and I’ll find my Trine and we’ll all fuck ourselves silly. Problem solved.”

“That’s highly unlikely, Skywarp.” He moved some objects off the desk. “Get on the desk.”

“What?” His valve was already tightening with the prospect. Not just of more spike, but the uptight Prowl’s no less. He was sure he’d be disappointed. But still.

“On the desk. If I can’t trust my men to take care of you without abusing the privilege,” Skywarp bridled—is that what he was? A ‘privilege’? “I’ll have to do it myself. With the medics.”

“Bluestreak.”

“Huh?”

“Bluestreak was good. Didn’t mess around. Didn’t say a word.” Maybe it was because the Autobot had been the first spike he’d had this heat, but he remembered the bot being good. Definitely worth another shot.

“I’ll remember that. Now. ON the desk.” Skywarp raised an eyebrow, but moved to the desk.

“Lay back?”

“If you want.”

Skywarp settled himself on his elbows, looking over his cockpit as Prowl unlatched his codpiece, stroking his erect spike. Skywarp shuddered in anticipation. He tilted his head back, his eyes closing, waiting for the spike to penetrate his valve. He heard a latching click, and looked up. Prowl had relatched his codpiece, smearing his lubricant on his fingers. He hesitated, running his fingers around the rim of the valve. Skywarp whimpered. “You’re not going to…?”

“I do not abuse prisoners,” Prowl said, flatly. “You’re going to have to guide me.”

Well, that figured. “In for a start. All the way.” He made a soft noise in his throat. “Feel the node at the top? Little buttony thi—yeah, that!” He jumped as Prowl’s fingers tweaked the node. “You can just…that!...or….you know, like….oh!...push in and…..” He groaned, dropping back against the surface, acutely aware of Prowl’s dispassionate face looking down at him. What the hell was the Autobot thinking? This wasn’t turning him on at all? Skywarp made it a goal: he was going to get the Autobot’s spike in him if it was the last thing he did.

He reached for Prowl’s other hand. At first the Autobot twitched his wrist away. “Not trying to attack you, Autobot. This will help,” he lied, taking the Autobot’s hand to his mouth, teasing his own lips with the fingertips, sucking one into his mouth. Prowl hissed, his whole body tensing. Well, that was making progress, Skywarp decided. And if he’d learned one thing going through heat in a Trine, it was how to get someone off in a variety of creative ways. He slid his glossa between two fingers to the sensitive joining of the servos. Prowl quivered, the rhythm of his other hand slowing down. Skywarp squirmed his hips. Prowl shook his head, a glaze leaving his eyes, and began working his hand into the valve again. Skywarp moaned, only half for show.

“Come on,” he whispered, looking coyly at Prowl, still sucking idly on his fingers. “You can do it. I want you to.” He rocked his head back as Prowl’s hand picked up pace. Reflecting his desire? Prowl’s eyes were a blank mask. Could be thinking anything behind those optics. Certainly didn’t look lustful. “Come on, Prowl. I want it. Please?” Prowl shifted his hand, twisting so that his fingers hit the node dead on with every thrust. “Prowl! Come! Please!” Then Skywarp couldn’t even make a sentence any more, just a random collection of syllables. He rocked forward and then back suddenly, spasming into an overload.

He lay sprawled on the desk, trembling, his fluid dripping audibly on the floor. Prowl looked down at ths bluish fluid. “I forgot about that,” he said, blandly.

“What, you never fucked before?”

“Did the medic see this?”

“Yes, of course. What?” Skywarp sat up. Nope, everything looked normal down there. Well, for this time of the megacycle.

“Nothing, then, I guess.” Prowl retracted his hand. Skywarp whined.

“Just one?”

“No.” He heard Prowl rattling in a compartment and come back with a bunch of towels and some plastic sheeting.

“If you’re inclined to be so…messy,” he said, guiding the Seeker to raise his hips, after carefully wiping the fluid from the desk. Oh, probably his desk. Probably didn’t want to think about fingering a horny Seeker every time he sat here. Though whyever not, Skywarp couldn’t imagine.

“This mean you’ll do it again, right? Look, your arm will get tired,” Skywarp reached for the codpiece. “I’m just saying.”

“Is there something wrong with my technique?”

You mean other than the staring at me like I’m a freak part? Instead, he shrugged. “No sense you don’t get to enjoy it, too.” His fingers grabbed for Prowl’s spike and he felt a hard, painful poke in a sensitive join in his wrist. He whimpered. “I just want….”

“Decepticon. I will assist you with your condition. Manually. But I do not lower myself to have my spike used as a medical aid.” He pushed Skywarp back, roughly, and before the Seeker could move, reinserted his hand in the valve. “I do not understand how this condition developed, however.” He began moving in agonizingly slow circular thrusts.

Skywarp shivered. “Started in our programming as a bonding thing. Keep Trines together. Even if they were coming apart personality wise, heat drives them back together. And…you learn to work the other stuff out.” Oh the rough sex he had seen—and done—in the name of ‘working things out’.

“It seems excessive.”

“Binaries have a lower threshold. We were…originally a quaterne so ours is higher than most Trines. Ohhhh, Primus yes, like that.” He rolled his eyes closed, concentrating on the slightly faster circles Prowl was making with his fingers around and over the node. He moaned, laying absolutely still, afraid any motion at all would alter the impossible sensations in his valve. He held himself so still he went rigid until another overload tore him into a thrashing fit. Prowl stepped easily to one side, avoiding the flood of his fluid.

“Come on, Prowl,” Skywarp moaned. He could see the other mech was aroused. He watched Prowl reach to his spike for more lubricant. Oh he just wanted that spike. “Using your lubricant’s okay, but not your spike, Autobot? Explain that one to me.”

“Merely convenient.”

“Oh, you’re not getting off on fingering me with your own lube.”

“Your vulgarity is unnecessary.”

“Oh no, I think it’s entirely necessary. And if you were merely looking for convenience, seems I have my own spike you could have used for lube.” It was kind of obvious, splitting the air between them.

“I am abiding by medical orders.”

“Frag medical orders. You want me, I….Primus knows I want you…what’s the fraggin’ problem?”

“You don’t know what you want in this condition.”

“Like you’d know anything about it?” Skywarp raged, sitting up.

Prowl held up the screwdriver. “You normally consent to this?”

“Prowl, one time, in heat, I consented to a fire suppression hose. That’s nothing.” He closed his eyes as a delicious shiver of memory ran through him. He’d forgotten what lesson they’d been trying to teach him. But he remembered the hose. Rather fondly.

“That’s precisely my point.”

“So…you don’t want me?”

“Skywarp,” Prowl admonished.

“I don’t appeal to you at all?”

Prowl frowned. “You are…not unattractive. And if the situation were..different….”

“The situation’s plenty different. I’m not a prisoner: I have a condition, right? Come on!” He reached for Prowl’s codpiece. Prowl didn’t shy away, only quivering as Skywarp’s hands closed over his spike. To be extra-convincing, Skywarp gave a few long slow pulls on the spike, before leading Prowl between his legs. “Come on,” he whispered. Prowl’s eyes were glued to his valve. In something like a trance he pushed forward, his spike hovering around the entrance. Skywarp sucked in an anticipatory breath.

“I can’t.” Prowl stepped away, latching his spike away firmly. “Not this way.”

Skywarp gnashed his denta. “Come ON! I need it!”

Prowl’s face was unreadable for a moment, but then drove his fingers up into the Seeker’s valve, hard and fast. Almost to Ironhide’s rhythm. Skywarp gasped, flopping back against the table. “This is what you wanted, right, Skywarp?” Prowl said, ramming his fingers against the node. “This is precisely my point. You don’t want me. You want anything that will do THIS to you.” He pinched the node. Skywarp yelped, bucking off the table. Prowl continued his harsh thrusts, eyes ablaze as Skywarp thrashed into an overload, his fingertips continuing to prod the recessed node. Skywarp shrieked, his body twisting around, not knowing if the stimulation was too much or he wanted more.

Prowl withdrew his hand, suddenly. “A break?”

“Wrist hurting? You can always…”

“I told you I’m not going to do that.”

Skywarp bit down on a cry of frustration.

“Bluestreak, you said?”

Skywarp looked up, then nodded. “Just did it and left.”

“Would you consent to being supervised? With me watching? To make sure he didn’t go too far?”

Skywarp squirmed. “Autobot, if I fucked myself with a screwdriver in front of those two car wrecks you call guards, where the FUCK do you think I have any modesty left?”

“It was just a question.”

“Conceding defeat?”

“I simply admit that your current requirements are outside my capabilities.”

“You want to watch?” he leered.

“I will consent to watch. If Bluestreak agrees.”

“Oh, I think he will.” The mech hadn’t said much, but just the fact he showed up twice and told his friends said enough of his opinion of the experience. And someone who could appreciate a good Seeker fuck? He deserved more.

“How many more?”

Skywarp thought. “Sixty-three.”

Prowl sighed. “Bluestreak and…who else?” Probably calculating that he’d wear Bluestreak out.

“That first medic. Did good, even acted like he cared.”

“First Aid?”

“That his name? I think I broke his finger.”

Prowl raised a curious eyebrow. “Really? He said it was an accident.”

“It was! I owe him an apology, though.” He squirmed, remembering that first overload at the medic’s hands. Three days into heat—he’d been raving. Not that he was a picture of reason right now. Maybe Prowl was right: in a few weeks he might be disgusted he’d done any of this. “Ironhide,” he added.

“No. Ironhide will be punished for his mistreatment of you. He will not be even allowed the temptation.”

“Don’t want him to fuck me,” Skywarp said. “I want him to watch, too.”

 

Next: [Ruining Bluestreak](http://community.livejournal.com/shadow_vector/9513.html)


	4. Ruining Bluestreak

Prowl gave instructions boringly enough that almost, ALMOST, Skywarp didn’t want to go through with it. Bored sexless. Still, he was going to finally get closer to what he wanted. He lay fairly contentedly on the berth, squirming only a little as his thigh armor brushed his valve.

Bluestreak loomed over him, throwing one leg over his body. Even now, he didn’t smile, but his spike was erect and his eyes were eager. Skywarp rolled to his back, spreading his legs. Bluestreak hung for a moment over him, taking it all in. “Primus, been dreaming about you,” he breathed.

“No talking,” Prowl snapped.

“Can I touch him? I mean, beyond the obvious?”

Prowl hesitated. Skywarp overrode him. “Yes.” He ran his own hands down the Autobot’s bulky chest armor, feeling him shiver.

“No talking from you, either, Skywarp, or the whole thing is off.”

“I get noisy.”

“Just…watch your mouth.”  
Bluestreak placed a hand on his wing, tentatively, stroking the broad flat surface. Skywarp closed his eyes, shivering with pleasure. He ran the hand over the wing, across the cockpit. Skywarp’s ventilation grew ragged. His own hands sought out joins in the Autobot’s grey and red armor, teasing the sides of the plates, under them to the wiring and power cables. Bluestreak groaned.

“Okay if I kiss you?”

“No talking!”

Bluestreak looked over at Prowl, angrily. “Asking permission.”

“Oh.”

Skywarp pulled the Autobot’s face down to his, licking at his lips until Bluestreak’s mouth covered his, hungrily. He moaned into the ‘bot’s mouth, his hands ranging across the broad back. Bluestreak’s hands were splayed out on his wings. His valve twinged, but Skywarp muffled it—this was too good to hurry. He did risk a glance over at Ironhide, unarmed, frowning fiercely in the corner, his eyes hot on Skywarp. Someone deserving of a good show. Skywarp pulled Bluestreak more passionately into an embrace, both gasping as their spikes butted against each other. Bluestreak hitched up his hips, and entered the Seeker with a profound sigh. His eyes closed, savoring. Skywarp worked his valve around the spike slowly, feeling Bluestreak shudder against him. His lips parted in surprise. “Oh!” he said.

“NO TALKING!”

Skywarp dropped his arms from around the Autobot’s shoulders, and turned on the berth to face Prowl. “Autobot, you are a fraggin’ moodkiller. Maybe you can fuck in complete silence, if indeed you fuck at all, but some of the rest of us can’t. If I have a problem with what he’s saying, I’ll let you know. Frag!” He pulled Bluestreak back down on top of him, spiralling the grips in his valve.

“Whoaaaaa,” the Autobot groaned. He rocked his hips back and forth experimentally. “Didn’t do this before.”

“Didn’t give me time,” Skywarp said. “Now, come on and take me.”

Bluestreak braced his weight on one hand, against Skywarp’s black armored shoulder, and began pushing, gently at first, at the valve. Skywarp writhed encouragingly. Bluestreak looked down their joined bodies, his armor blending into the dark of the Seker's, his silver spike sliding into the Seeker’s valve the only patch of light.. His eye caught on the Seeker’s own spike and a moment later, his hand hovered above it. “Can I?”

In response, Skywarp shoved his hips up, pushing his spike into Bluestreak’s hand. Oh, this was just…heaven. Exactly what it would be with his Trine. Bluestreak stroked the spike gently, then more firmly, increasing pace to the thrusts he made into the valve. Skywarp alternated between squeezing the mech’s armor and grabbing for the metal berth. Bluestreak’s eyes were hot on his face.

Skywarp’s optics flashed wide open as the double overload hit him, fluid squirting from his spike at almost the exact instant Bluestreak overloaded inside his spasming valve. He yelled so hard his vocal processor shorted out at the high end. When he came back around, Bluestreak was still inside him, quivering. “Again?” the Autobot asked. Skywarp squeezed with his valve: Bluestreak’s spike was still fully extended. He had more than a few overloads left in him. “Oh fuck yeah,” Skywarp croaked.

His eye shot over to Ironhide had gone from shifting uncomfortably on his feet to trying to discretely tap at his codpiece. Spike must be stuck against it. Skywarp hoped it hurt.

“Can I take top?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer, squirmed out from under the Autobot. Prowl stepped forward, alarmed. Skywarp waved him off, as Bluestreak—a little quicker to catch on than Prowl—settled himself on his back. Skywarp threw one leg over and slowly settled himself down on the erect spike. He began slowly, raising and lowering himself on Bluestreak, his valve working in another twisting, squeezing combination that left Bluestreak gasping. Skywarp lowered his estimates: Maybe Bluestreak didn’t have that many overloads left in him, because Skywarp was trading quality for quantity. Still, he was young and randy as hell. Two in his favor. He wanted to blow the Autobot’s mind. Ruin him for fucking forever. And it didn’t hurt that Ironhide would be watching the whole thing. Finally appreciate what he was so callously drilling.

Bluestreak moaned a moan that didn’t stop until he overloaded again, just rose and fell in pitch and volume as he watched the spectacle of the Decepticon pleasuring himself on his spike, and felt the impossibly good sensation of the—whatever the frag was in that valve—working at him. He’d heard, yeah, and he’d thought that just doing a Seeker was good enough—one of the better fucks of his life, that one in the repair bay, the Seeker sprawled out wanton and howling with every thrust, his valve—Primus, strong enough to break First Aid’s finger?—squeezing at him. But this…this was something else. As he came, the Seeker paused, just long enough for Bluestreak to gather himself, that incredible valve pulling at his spike, refusing to let it even think of retracting. Skywarp began moving again, faster paced, more intense.

The Seeker overloaded on top of him—he felt a rush of hot fluid from the valve, the weight change—the Seeker bracing himself stiff armed on Bluestreak’s chest. “More?” he asked. Bluestreak yanked his wings down. “Yesssss.” He began thrusting into the Seeker.

Skywarp’s eye flew to Ironhide. Oh, no subtlety at all now: the warrior was openly stroking his spike. The only reason Prowl wasn’t disciplining him is that Prowl himself was…lost in unfamiliar territory for himself. Even from here Skywarp could see the glisten of lubricant leaking at his codpiece seam.

He quivered, arching his back into another overload. Ohhhhhh, he’d been right to ask for this Autobot. Beneath him, Bluestreak slowed down, gasping. “Need a break,” he said. “Sorry.”

Too many at once and the spike oversensitized. Skywarp could understand that, remembering a little too vividly wincing in his cell, in the throes of heat. “Other ways to get me off, Autobot,” he said, dismounting, carefully. “Like this?” he took some of the Autobot’s own lubricant on his fingers and plunged into Bluestreak’s own valve. The Autobot cried out. Yeah, Skywarp thought, know a bit more than your medics how to do this one, too.

“Can…can you take me?” Bluestreak moaned, tossing from side to side.

“Oh…fuck yeah,” Skywarp repeated. He shifted his legs and nudged his spike slowly into the Autobot. He pushed one of Bluestreak’s legs down, so the two watchers could get a better view as he began slowly thrusting his spike into the valve. Primus. Last valve he’d had had been—that annoying twin. Forever ago, it seemed. And before that…. Just a long stretch of his hand and his fantasies and…the wall. Soooo much better with an actual partner. SO much better with a partner who responded, like Bluestreak. Bluestreak was howling out the names of divinities from twenty different star systems, his hands clutching at Skywarp’s wings, his engine throttling high. He threw Skywarp’s name in his litany of gods. That sounded about right, Skywarp thought, and increased the pressure of his thrusting, driving his spike into the recessed node. They both overloaded together, Skywarp’s name still on Bluestreak’s lips, Skywarp smiling in satisfaction as his eye caught the silvery arc shooting from Ironhide’s rubbed spike.

Prowl recovered something like composure, with a not-so-well-disguised swab at his codpiece armor seam. “This does not treat your condition, Skywarp.” Well, at least he had the decency to wait til they were finished. Prowl seemed to have a kink for interrupting.

Bluestreak gasped, “Needed a break, I did. I asked for it. Primus, don’t punish him for that. For…that!” An aftershock ran through his body. He yanked the Seeker down onto him again.

“What about your condition, Prowl?”

“I do not have a condition.”

“Right.” Skywarp knocked hard on the codpiece, watching Prowl wince. “Now, leave us alone or join in.” He turned back to Bluestreak. “You?”

“I can finish what I started.” Skywarp grinned. “Sure about that?”

“Sure I can damn well try.” He shifted, pulling Skywarp’s spike out of him and pushing the Seeker down. Skywarp rolled to his belly: maybe Bluestreak liked it like Ironhide did? Skywarp wanted to see what Ironhide did watching someone else fuck the Seeker in his favorite position. Bluestreak turned him over. “Oh no, baby. Have to see your face. Want to.”

Baby? Whatever. Bluestreak was delivering the goods, and ‘baby’ was miles better than Ironhide’s filthy mouth. Skywarp flipped over, Bluestreak’s hands hot on his wings, teasing the flaps. He pulled Bluestreak against him. “Where were we?”

Bluestreak grinned—for the first time—and shifted so his spike planted itself in the Seeker’s valve. Skywarp moaned, his hands tugging at the Autobot’s hips, coaxing him forward and back. Bluestreak moved obediently. Oh, he was parsecs better than any of the other Autobots. Skywarp told him so, feeling the Autobot shove into him harder, aroused and flattered.

Skywarp didn’t feel the first explosions—he was at the point where he just presumed the sensation that the building was moving was part of his rising overload. It wasn’t until the wall caved in over his head that he realized what was going on.

Thundercracker transformed as he emerged through the new hole in the wall, weapons sweeping the room, locking on a surprised Prowl and a very alarmed Ironhide, who bent to cover his exposed spike. Thundercracker’s eyes went to Skywarp. “Skywarp what the FUCK---!”

“That’s what we’re trying to do, dammit,” Skywarp locked his hands around Bluestreak’s red-armored thighs. Starscream burst in, and Bluestreak looked up to see a null ray a handspan from his face.

“So unnecessary,” Skywarp said. “Can you let me finish? Please? Kind of in heat here.”

“Oh you think WE don’t know that?” Starscream snapped. “Do you know how long it takes when there are only two of us?”

“NOT as long as alone, stuck with a bunch of Autobots! Now let me finish!” He turned back to Bluestreak. “Gun bothering you?” Bluestreak swallowed, shook his head, began moving slowly in Skywarp.

“Just don’t want him to blow my head off when you’re done.”

“Reasonable concern,” Thundercracker said. “Do we want to know why you’ve got an audience?”

“Probably not. But, seriously, don’t kill this one. He’s fucking awesome.” Skywarp purred gently, in time to Bluestreak’s thrusts, encouraging him.

“Really?” Starscream shot a measuring look at Bluestreak. “We have not yet finished ourselves, you know.”

Skywarp grinned at Bluestreak. “You up for it?” A shudder ran through Bluestreak’s body.

“You serious? Three of you?”

“Just for a few days.”

Bluestreak shuddered again inside Skywarp’s valve and began thrusting harder. Skywarp’s purring changed to a rising moan, fingers teasing the Autobot’s pelvic armor. Bluestreak lowered to his elbows, his face inches from Skywarp’s, eyes fixed on the Seeker’s face. Skywarp could feel Bluestreak’s overload building right against his own. He pulled the Autobot’s mouth against his as they both fell into overload, bodies writhing against each other.

“Oh yes,” Thundercracker said. He glared at Prowl and Ironhide. “We’ll be taking a hostage.”

“Yes,” Starscream agreed, licking his lips. “To…uh…to guarantee you do not attempt to….hinder our retreat.”

 

EPILOGUE  
Message Originates:////Safir Hub Station  
Contents:////  Seven cycles ago, MIA Autobot gunner, designation Bluestreak, dumped outside main doors. No signs of injury.  After five days of recharge solid, gunner awoke. Base trauma specialist hypothesizes Bluestreak underwent some horrific form of torture at the hands of Decepticon captors. Symptom: Subject WILL NOT STOP TALKING.    


 


End file.
